Monday, May 14, 2012

Every once in a while, people get bored of my pontificating and decide to share their own tales of woe in Hollywood. I prefer this because it basically means I get all the fun of good content without having to write it.

So if you ever have any good stories you want to share, please send them along to TempX@tempdiaries.com. For now, please enjoy this one I received the other day.

A few months ago I was
working on the [singers' names redacted] music video in NYC.
I'd lived in New York for a little over a year at this point and had
driven on many jobs. But since it's mainly a walking/subway city, still
was unsure of some of the streets downtown.

I was asked to go pick up [producer's name redacted] at her hotel in Chinatown and take her to location in Herald
Square. I showed up an hour early with the car. She gets in the
car and is ready to go. At a red light, I glance at the map on my phone
to make sure I take the correct turn.

She snaps, "Oh my God! They sent
me a PA that doesn't know NY, this is terrible! Hon, if you look at
that phone again, you don't work with me."

So I put down my phone and make my way up 6th Ave to location.
The traffic is insane, bumper to bumper. She is immersed in her
computer and snaps again, "You need to go faster! The director is
already there. Do you want me to drive, because I will." What she fails to
see is that the street is PACKED and if I went any faster we would be
inside the trunk of the cab in front of us.

So, to make her happy, I
drive like a cabby -- pulling up in every open space possible. Then she
goes, "Ugh! I can't do this!" She grabs all her stuff and gets out of the
production vehicle, walks to the (also stuck in traffic) cab next
to us and hops in it.

I called the production office and told them
what happened, they said to not sweat it and come back to pick up the line producer. I went back, picked up the line
producer and took her to location only to see [producer's name redacted] get out of the cab
she ditched me for across the street. Then she bitched out the line
producer and told her I was driving way too slow and that this shit
wouldn't cut it in LA.

I worked a 22-hour day and was asked to come in the next
day to help out in the office because "there's just too much to get
done." I gladly did so. Then when I filled out the time sheet and put
my hours in, the line producer said, "Why'd you do that? " Then crossed
out my hours, changed it to 10 hours and said, "there's no OT on this
job." This is the first I'd heard of that.

Temps are the lowest life form in Hollywood. They are lower than assistants. Lower than those in the mail room. Lower than everyone. Why? Because they are completely disposable. You don't like the temp. Get a new one. (Oh and we don't get health insurance, paid vacation, 401k, etc.) I am one of those barnacles on the hull of the good ship "Hollywood." These are my stories.